


Entertainment

by Rydyr



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, More of everything soon, More tags to be added as they become relevant, Movie Star!Stuck, We'll Get There Together, and relationships, eventually, lots of emotions, more characters too, road trip au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3927478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rydyr/pseuds/Rydyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Movie Star!Stuck, where Vriska, John, Rose, and Kanaya are famous actors in good old Hollywood. Surely they're happy with themselves and their place in the world? Of course not! Join our four as they take an unplanned break from their "glamorous" lives, traveling the country in hope of learning a little bit more about themselves, and each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

> _We've all made petty fortunes but we can't afford a life_  
>  _Confined to pull-out quotes and hotel rooms_  
>  _They all scream California and its toppling empire_  
>  _But can't you see the end is coming soon?_  
>  -Rise Against

_On the whole_ , she thought, _my day could have gone a lot better_.

Her plan for this beautiful Thursday morning had acted itself out perfectly in reality. A late wakeup, breakfast in bed with her partner, then heading down to the station for a day of filing paperwork. So far, so good, all according to plan. In the version she had in her head, this was followed by said day at the station, then a lovely dinner with her aforementioned partner. However, her schedule had been abruptly put on hold when a van had driven up next to her and taken her off the street, using some form of chloroform to muffle her shouts for help and ensure that she didn’t struggle. As forms of capture went, it was pretty well executed. She gave them points for lack of noise and struggle, and for doing it in broad daylight as well. However, there were a couple big oversights they had made, which lost them a lot of points.

It probably wasn’t best to be having these self-reflective thoughts as her captor was waving a gun in her face, but that hadn’t stopped her before. Once, she had been caught planning out the next day’s list of errands while being tortured into giving up some information. They hadn’t broken her, she’d kicked their asses, and had gone out shopping the very next day, albeit with a few bruises and bumps. 

When you’d been captured as much as she had, though, they all started to blend together. Different voices, different rooms, but the same scare tactics that always failed to impress her. Ditto for the young man currently shouting at her. She took a moment to consider him. Around five-ten, maybe a hundred sixty pounds. Dark hair, nearly black and untidy, which looked good against his tan skin. Brilliant blue eyes shone from behind square glasses, although those eyes were currently narrowed in anger. Shame, she thought, because he’d be attractive otherwise. Maybe when this charade was over, she could talk him into letting her out, and then – 

“Hey! Are you fucking listening to me?!” The shout snapped her out from her reverie. Blinking a couple times, she focused back on her interrogator. He was standing between her and the door, observing how her arms and legs were tied down with thick rope to the sparse wooden chair her captors had provided. If she moved, the only place she was going to go was to the ground. And even though she had been through this countless times before, she still had her pride to think about. 

“I’m sorry, what?” She made an exaggerated show of shaking her long black hair out of her eyes, even though she could see him perfectly clearly. “You might be cute, but I don’t think you’re saying anything worth hearing.” She was pleased at seeing him rattled, nodding as he took a step back and readjusted his grip on his stubby pistol. Inexperienced, definitely. Unsure what to do because she wasn’t cowering in fear, for sure. Ready to call his boss in to start leaning on her for real? Maybe. 

Not if she had anything to say about it.

“What are you even doing here, anyway?” She inquired, tilting her head innocently to one side. Questions like this were a great way to start forming a bond between captor and captive. It never hurt to get to know the person behind the gun, as that sort of knowledge often exposed flaws in their thinking that could expedite her escape later. “I never thought a pretty face like you would be caught up in a bad crowd like this.”

Flattery. Works every time. Judging by the crimson spreading through his cheeks, it certainly had an effect on him. The next time he spoke, his voice had a new waver that wasn’t there before.

“Sh-Shut up! My boss warned me against this. Trying to engage me in dialogue so we can become friends – next thing I know, I’m flat on my ass, watching you hogtie me before you blow a kiss good-bye.” He sneered at her, the expression again looking odd on the expressive face. “Nice try, Agent Cobalt.”

Well. She had to admit, the kid surprised her. He was aware of the standard captive ingratiation tactics and how not to fall for them. Aware, fortunately for her, was a long way from avoidance. That blush meant she was definitely on the right track. She could sense the kid weakening under her gilded tongue, the pleasant words ensnaring him into her plan, her web. The longer he stayed with her, the more time she had to work him over and convince him to “accidentally” let her escape. Sure, he had his reasons to interrogate her, but the prime rule for a job like hers was Look Out for Number One. 

Idly, she tested the ropes holding her hands in place. Thick it may be, but if the knot was shoddily done, she could subtly work at it until her hands were free, and then not even need her captor to escape. He could even have plausible deniability if she knocked him unconscious on her way out the door. Not too hard, though; that date was still lurking in the back of her mind.

“Say, kid,” she drawled, observing him with her dark blue eyes, “there’s no way in hell you did this rope work yourself. I highly doubt a Boy Scout like you ever got past tying up bundles of firewood.” He physically recoiled at that remark, his face going white. Seems her assumption was spot on. “I’m through talking to a small timer like you.” She leaned back as far as she could, projecting an aura of confidence and swagger. “Let’s get your boss in her and see what he has to – ack!”

In her bravado, she had overbalanced, causing her chair to tip and fall backwards. Confidence was replaced by panic as she fell, unable to stop the thwack of her head hitting the concrete floor. Stars burst behind her eyelids, quickly followed by a hot pain shooting throughout her skull and rattling her brain like a prisoner and the bars of his cage. She groaned, unable to properly open her eyes and get anything into focus. 

What was this lovely substance she was lying on? It was so cool and refreshing to her flushed cheek. A word swam into her befuddled mind. Concrete. That was it. Yes, her old friend concrete. She didn’t begrudge it the damage it had just done to her head. No way, no how. After all this was over, maybe she’d take her buddy concrete out to get a couple drinks…

Dimly, she heard her guard laughing at her, although it sounded like it was coming from about a mile away, in the sewers. The words “gotta get the boss in here to see this” filtered through, accompanied by the sounds of a door opening and closing. She laid there for a moment, staring dreamily at the cobwebbed ceiling before scattered neurons began firing properly again.

The kid’s boss was coming? That seemed important somehow. Oh, yes, he was the nice man who had tied her to the chair in the first place. She struggled to get it together, to clear the fog from her brain before he came in and saw her like this. Her legs flailed in an attempt to restore the chair to her original position. With an undignified squeak (that she was most certainly glad her cute captor hadn’t been around to hear), the chair tipped onto its side, so she was left with a great view of the wall. 

Great. Just fucking great. Not only was she a prisoner, but she was on her side, laying down, tied up, and practically giving herself to her kidnappers. Adultnappers? Definitely not a child any more. _Focus! Remember the mistakes they made earlier. Keep stalling, keep playing for time_. She kept this on loop in her head until she heard footsteps approaching the door.

With an almighty crash, the door to her holding area flew open, banging against the wall. Her previous interrogator entered, eyeing her position with undisguised amusement before stepping aside to allow his boss into the room. She craned her neck, hoping to get a good look at whoever had put her in this mess.

Her mouth dropped open.

_Well_ , some rational part of her mind noted drily, _definitely not a “he”_.

She was, um, freaking _hot_. Her eyes traveled upwards from the ground, taking in her true enemy’s appearance. Knee high combat boots, into which black leather pants were tucked. A deep purple shirt, overlaid with a simple black jacket that looked deceivingly cheap, but had to have been expensive. Black lipstick, currently pursed in an expression of distaste. Smoky purple eyes that roamed over her captive. Blonde hair cut in a pageboy trim, framing her high cheekbones perfectly. Her fingernails, drumming against her thigh, were uniformly painted solid black. 

“A pity that we had to meet under such…undignified circumstances. I had hoped that we would first face each other on a more even keel.” The woman bent down at the knees, bringing herself lower to look her captive in the eye. “Agent Cobalt, well met. In your files, they call me the Grim.”

Oh, crap. 

The Grim was, if not number one on her department’s list of People to Take Down, then certainly a strong contender. A figure that, until now, hadn’t even been positively identified, with only the name left behind at crime scenes. The Grim had over three dozen crimes attributed to her name, including drug trafficking, grand and petty larceny, robbery, and fraud. Her only consistency was that the name never appeared at any violent crimes. There was a running joke at the office that the Grim didn’t want to be associated with any grim deaths. 

While Cobalt processed this information, the Grim had evidently tired of kneeling. She stood up, nodding to the blue-eyed interrogator, now standing guard at the closed door. “Stand her chair back up, will you? As amusing as this is, I’d prefer to have this conversation on the level.” With a nod, he crossed over to where Cobalt was laying, maneuvering her chair back into its normal position. Without any apparent effort, too, she noticed, as he moved back to his previous position. The kid was stronger than he looked. 

“On the level, huh?” She snorted, glaring at the discrepancy in height between the two. “Big words, coming from the bitch who isn’t tied up. I’m not saying anything until you untie me and we’re really on the level.” Cobalt crossed her arms, or tried to. Still tied up. Damn.

The Grim smirked lazily, leaning back against the wall. Sunlight filtered through the window above her head, casting her face in shadow. “If I believed for an instant that you intended to actually speak to me without attempting to escape, then I would be more than happy to cut you free. I’m sure your limbs have lost some circulation by now, to say nothing of the lump currently sprouting on your head.” Another smirk. “However, all accounts depict you as wily and tricksy, always sneaking your way out of situations with skill, charm, and a hefty dose of luck. This way, I only need deal with your charm,” she chuckled softly, “such as it were.”

Damn, damn, damn. She knew, she fucking knew. How long had the Grim been gathering information on her? Nobody but the agency had her full track record. The only possible way for her to get the information was to have snuck in and stolen it. Or there was a mole in the agency. Either way, the situation had just gone from bad to real fucking bad.

Cobalt couldn’t let any of her internal distress show on her face, though. To give any ground to the woman opposite she was to lose it forever. Beautiful though the Grim was, her razor wit and intelligence made her a fearsome enemy. Cobalt was going to have to talk very carefully to make it out of this one.

“You seem pretty self-assured for a woman who currently has the full might of the FBI against her,” she jibed, working her very hardest not to look troubled. “I was on my way to work this morning when your jackass thugs grabbed me.” She jerked her chin in Little Boy Blue’s direction, causing him to flush crimson yet again. “Don’t you think they’ll realize that there’s an issue when one of their finest agents doesn’t report for duty?”

It was pretty disconcerting to throw some hard-hitting sass in your captor’s face and have it slide off like warm Jell-O, as Cobalt found out just then. The Grim shook her head slowly at the agent’s words, still smirking that infuriating smirk. 

“I am not concerned without them. As far as they know, Agent Cobalt called to tell the Director that she was feeling a bit under the weather, and that Agent Fangs would be covering all the work for the day. So,” she continued, pushing off the wall lightly and sauntering over to Cobalt, “you won’t receive any help from that quarter.” The Grim stood over Cobalt, every inch the crime lord in control, clearly loving her role. “So I suppose that you have no choice but to sit back and listen to what I have to say. Who knows?” She quirked an elegant eyebrow. “You may even come around to my point of view.”

Just as the Grim opened her mouth again, the window she had been standing underneath suddenly shattered inward, flooding the room with tiny shards of glass. Most flew at the Grim and her guard, who instinctively flung their arms up to protect their faces in the glass hailstorm. Momentarily stunned, they backed away, the Grim’s smirk wiped from her face.

A set of perfectly manicured hands gripped the edge of the window before revealing themselves to be attached to a woman as she vaulted through the broken glass into the room. Quickly scanning the scene, she strode over to Cobalt, her boots crunching on the glass. 

The newcomer cupped Cobalt’s face in her hands, her thumb wiping at where an errant shard of glass had scored a line across one cheek. “Are you all right, Cobalt?” she asked, searching the captive agent’s eyes.

Cobalt smiled in return. “I’m fine, Fangs. Nothing new here.” The reunion was somewhat spoiled when she caught sight of the Grim and her guard recovering from the shock of Fangs and her explosive entrance. “Now, sweetheart, do be a dear and cut me off of this goddamn chair. I want to break it over the Grim’s head.” 

“The Grim?” Fangs moved over to the back of Cobalt’s chair, drawing a knife from a holster on her hip and sawing through the rope holding her fellow agent’s hands together in a matter of moments. Her tone remained cavalier, yet her deep green eyes roamed the room, focusing on the young man, who was fumbling on the ground for his glasses, evidently knocked off his face in the confusion. “He doesn’t look like much. Are you sure you have the right person, and not some joker pretending to be the Grim?” 

With a last snap of cord, Cobalt’s legs were freed, allowing her to unsteadily stand for the first time in hours. She grabbed onto her fellow agent’s shoulder, pointing at the actual Grim, who looked far more disheveled and off-point as she began looking at them. “Not the kid, her. She’s the real deal, trust me. We gotta take her in!”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Across from them, the Grim and her guard had overcome their confusion and were facing them, squaring up for a fight. “I haven’t come this far to be foiled by two _agents_ from the government.” The Grim spat the word like a curse, losing her composure for the first time. Her purple eyes flashed angrily as she drew a long knife from her boot and leveled it at them. “How? How did you find her? _How?!_ ” By the end, the Grim was practically screaming, her plan coming undone before her eyes.

In answer, Cobalt turned her head from side to side, showing off the sapphire earrings that dangled from each of her earlobe. “I’m surprised your band of thugs didn’t take these off me when they grabbed me off the street,” she began, finding her balance and standing on her own. “If they had, I really would have been screwed. As is,” she continued, smirking at the Grim, “each one broadcasts a VLF signal that can be traced for hundreds of miles. Just touching them was enough to set it going, which I did as soon as your boys hauled me in.”

Cobalt outright grinned that time, setting herself opposite the Grim. She felt rather than saw Agent Fangs move herself to stand next to her, facing the guard, who looked terrified. _And rightly so_ , Cobalt thought. _We must look pretty pissed off_. 

The air crackled with tension. Each side was determined to win, for its own sake. The tension stretched out, both teams waiting for the other to make the first move. Just when they were poised to jump into the brawl, a voice cut through the atmosphere with the force of a bullhorn.

_“Cut!!”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, everybody. Comments, questions, angry tirades? Leave 'em in the comments, or send them to me directly at rydyrtherydyr.tumblr.com. Yes, the road trip and the feels will be coming. But as the title of this chapter says, you gotta set the stage first. Not sure when the next chapter will be out, but it is coming. Don't you worry.
> 
> Also, a special shout out to pasta-cupcake and alexianfireflies for beta-reading. You two are awesome.


End file.
